


Monmouth

by bennyboyTallmadge



Series: platonic!Washette [3]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gen, June 1778, platonic!Washette, post Monmouth, rated M for non-graphic violence, real events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:45:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyboyTallmadge/pseuds/bennyboyTallmadge
Summary: June 1778: Lafayette and Washington share a private moment after the battle of Monmouth Courthouse.





	Monmouth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! Here's a new part of my series, this time in a setting many of you might already know: the battle of Monmouth Courthouse, or rather its aftermath. This will only be a single-chapter story but there are some new ideas coming up, so stay tuned!  
> Be prepared for a protective Washington and a very angry but also very tired Lafayette. Because sometimes two 250 year-old guys cuddling is what you need to brighten your day.

_“Greene found the commander-in-chief as dusk was turning into dark. General George Washington was asleep on a cloak spread on the ground. The boy, Major General Lafayette, lay curled up beside him, also asleep on the General’s cloak.”_

_-_ David A. Clary _, Adopted Son,_ p.2

 

When the cannon fire finally ceased, the sun had already started to descend on the horizon. The clouds’ slight red coloring signaled the end of a day destined to go down in history. A whole day of battle, in the ardent heat of the merciless summer sun, a day of courage and treason, triumph and agonizing defeat. The world would remember Monmouth Courthouse, that was for sure.

General George Washington was crossing the back lines of the battlefield with slow, well-measured steps. Just a day earlier he would have been walking through knee-high grass here. Now his feet were stepping on an indistinguishable mixture of brown, trampled grass and dirt. Washington was careful to avoid the spots on the ground in which the grass had taken a red coloring to it. Not many of the wounded men had made it this far back behind the front lines, but those who had, had left the traces of their agony. Hamilton, his aide-de-camp, had spoken of approximately two-hundred casualties when Washington had encountered him earlier, but since the General had walked across the battlefield he feared that these numbers were to rise significantly after an exact counting. At least the enemy’s casualties would not be much smaller in number, Washington thought to himself. Owing to General Knox’ efforts of upgrading the army’s artillery, the American cannons had proved to be almost equal to the ones on the British side and had cost Clinton many soldiers. As a result, the battle had ended in a standstill, mostly because the sun had started to set and the conditions after dusk would not allow the fight to continue in a way that promised any success. There had not yet been an agreement between the two armies, however, and thus it was still uncertain at this point if the battle was to continue, come morning.

The repelling smell of gun powder hung in the air. It was the odd mixture of smoke and rotten eggs which one could neglect in the heat of the battle but afterwards caused many men to throw up. Washington took off his neck cloth and pressed it to his nose and mouth as he felt nausea rise inside of him. It had been a while since he had actively participated in a battle. The cannons that had been fired close to him had left his hearing impaired. Washington hoped that the unnerving ringing in his right ear would leave him soon. After all, another physical impairment was the last thing he needed right now.

In the meantime, Washington had crossed the valley in which the battle had taken place and found himself on a slight hill, behind General Lafayette’s lines. The Frenchman was nowhere to be seen at the moment but Washington had caught a quick glance of Lafayette earlier and therefor he knew that his young friend had survived the battle – not a self-evident result, considering the aggressive manner in which he had charged into the fight.

Washington spotted an oak tree in a few yards distance from where he was standing. Not a single soul appeared to be nearby which was exactly the condition Washington desired presently. He approached the old, massive tree and took off his dust-covered cloak to place it on the ground. Groaning slightly at the pain in his back, he lowered himself onto the cloak and leaned against the tree. Here, in safe distance from the enemy’s artillery, Washington could allow himself some contemplations on the events of the past hours. No matter in which direction his thoughts started to drift, they eventually returned to one man: Major-General Charles Lee.

Washington had pushed the thought aside earlier because he wanted to avoid the anger it would cause him, but he had to admit that a victory would have been much more likely, had Lee not been in charge of any troops today. The general’s conduct had been inscrutable from the beginning to the end. During the army’s preparations for the battle he had declined the command of 1500 men as an advance force. Slightly irritated but not yet concerned by his behavior, Washington had handed over the command to Lafayette, who had gratefully accepted the offer. It was only after Lee had learned of the fact that the number of troops had been increased to 2500 and after Lafayette had already left camp with his men, that Lee had demanded the command back. Well aware that the Frenchman would be gravely disappointed, Washington had been left with no option but to give Lee the authority to take over, should he reach the troops before the battle’s beginning. Lee was almost twice Lafayette’s senior and thus he stood above him in the chain of command – Washington could not neglect this regulation in favor of personal affections.

Now he regretted that he had not given Lafayette the command without even offering it to Lee first. He surely would have offended the older General, but after all, Lee had proven himself unworthy of his position in the course of the battle. Instead of launching an aggressive, strong offense, as Lafayette would have done, Lee had attacked the enemy only in a very hesitant manner and had ordered a retreat after only a few shots had been fired on both sides. When Washington, who had been in charge of the rearguard, had arrived at the scene of action, he had found two-thousand men in disorganized and almost panicked withdrawal. In this moment, he had not been able to control his temper. In probably the most violent verbal outburst the men had ever witnessed from him, Washington had revoked Lee’s command and had ordered him to the rear.

The commander-in-chief had personally led the advance after this incident. He had formed a line, reorganized the men and eventually achieved to at least turn the almost certain defeat into a draw. But oh, what a chance had been missed because of Lee’s conduct! A coward, Washington had called him, and he had meant it. Lee had demanded the command just for the sake of it, not having any plan in mind and letting the men fall into a headless retreat.

A quite unsettling thought had appeared in the back of Washington’s head. What if Lee had not behaved in this manner because he had lacked a strategy but rather because he had intended to retreat from the beginning in order to prevent an American victory? He had spent an extended period of time with the enemy, as a prisoner of war. Who knew by whom and in which way he had been influenced there? Washington had not yet dared to think of the word, but a whisper in the back of his mind made him shudder in unease. _Traitor. Lee is a traitor._

 

Washington’s train of thought was disrupted when he heard steps approaching him. He sat up straight and turned his upper body in order to see who the person disturbing his silent contemplations was. In the dim light remaining in the late evening hours it proved difficult to make out more than the silhouette of the man making his way up the slight hill. He was tall and lean, and his steps had a natural elegance to them, even at the end of this long and hot day. Washington knew who the man was before he could come close enough for the General to see his face. Instantly, the  irritation that had started to rise inside of him at the prospect of being disturbed vanished. Lafayette. Washington felt a strange sensation of relief at the sight of the young Frenchman. He had seen him shortly from afar after the end of the battle and Lafayette had not made the impression of having suffered an injury of any kind. Still, it calmed Washington to know that his young friend was well for certain.

In a few yards distance from where the General was resting on his cloak, Lafayette slowed his steps. He appeared hesitant all of the sudden, as if he was not entirely sure his presence was desired by the commander-in-chief. Washington noticed that the young man was not wearing his blue uniform coat but was only dressed in the white shirt and waistcoat the continental officers were equipped with. Understandable, Washington thought to himself, the heavy woolen coats were not exactly appropriate for weather conditions like these. But the commander also knew that Lafayette frequently renounced the obvious insignias of rank when he was with his men after a fight. It was his way to show them that he was one of them, no less of a soldier than every private or ensign amongst them. As a result of this gesture and others of its kind, he had managed to become the most beloved Major-General of the army – his men adored him and the other generals respected him for his noble attitude.

In the meantime, Lafayette had come to a halt, still a few yards away from Washington. Now it was obvious for the General that the young man was nervous. He was unconsciously playing with the pocket of his waistcoat with one hand and keeping his lower lip captured between his teeth.

It was in moments like this that Washington was reminded that even though Lafayette was a Major-General with several battles to prove his worthiness of his rank, a part of him still was a boy, in constant need of reassurance. He had an amount of enthusiasm and zeal that would have been enough for three men, but someone who was as intimate of a friend to the young Frenchman as Washington was knew that sometimes his confidence threatened to falter.

Washington gave him one of the warm smiles only the ones closest to him were granted. Lafayette reciprocated it and clasped his hands behind his back, probably to stop himself from fidgeting with the seam of his waistcoat.

“ _Mon général_ ”, he greeted the commander, slightly bowing his head before he raised his eyes again to look at Washington who remained leaning against the tree.

“If you wish to remain in solitude, I will-”, he started in his heavily accented English, but a move of Washington’s hand silenced him.

“Oh no, your company is always welcome, Marquis”, the General said and gestured toward the ground next to him.

“Please, sit with me”, he offered. Lafayette smiled at him, obviously relieved at Washington’s approval and came closer to lower himself onto the grass. A quiet groan escaped his mouth when he  leaned back onto his hands and stretched out his legs.

“Are you hurt?”, Washington inquired and he noticed that he sounded a lot more concerned than he had intended to. He let his eyes roam over his friend’s body, checking for signs of injuries but found none. The blood on Lafayette’s breeches did not seem to belong to him as the fabric was still fully intact, as Washington noticed. Lafayette shook his head.

“Non, it is nothing to worry about. It is but my old scar paining me and making my leg sore. The men suffered a lot more than I have”, he said. Lafayette took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He had to be absolutely fatigued, Washington mused, after more than twelve hours of battle and probably barely any sleep the night before. The General knew well how heavy the burden of command rested on an officer’s shoulders and how quickly personal needs like a proper rest were neglected in the field. 

The last traces of sunlight were coloring the cloudless horizon in tones of orange and purple. In the dim light Lafayette’s sandy hair appeared in an almost unnaturally intense red. He had left his hair unpowdered today. He had done so more frequently lately, as Washington had noticed. It was another symptom that showed how accustomed the aristocrat had grown to the much simpler condition in the army and, after all, having red hair did not make him as much of an outsider in America as it had back at the French court. There was no doubt that Lafayette’s dedication to the American cause was sincere and wholehearted, and that not a single one of his frequent, emotional declarations of loyalty was but a set of empty words, spoken only in the intention of being given a command. Washington felt himself overcome with affection for his young friend at this thought.

“You fought bravely today”, he said, breaking the silence that had stretched out between them. Had he know the reaction his words would cause he would have remained quiet. Lafayette huffed and shook his head. An embittered smile appeared on his lips as he let his eyes wander over the part of the battlefield that was still visible in the low light.

“I was not given the chance to show bravery”, he then said. Washington could hear in his voice that his friend was struggling to contain his anger.

“Lafayette-“, he started, holding out one hand in a soothing gesture. He knew, however, that it was already too late to calm the young man.

“It should have been me to lead the advance force! We could have won the battle if Lee had not been in charge! He did not have a strategy at all when he took my command! Lee is a coward and not only has he deprived me of my opportunity to prove my dedication to America but he also allowed the British to turn our certain victory into a draw!”

Lafayette’s voice had grown louder with every sentence and his accent was even more prominent than usual, as always when he was upset or nervous. Washington had not even been given the time to open his mouth to respond, when Lafayette continued with his tirade.

“The only reason he decided to request the command was that it was me who had been chosen to lead the advance! He despises me. Not a second did he think about how to win the battle, he only saw the chance of humiliating me in front of my men.”

A bitter undertone had been added to Lafayette’s voice and he was now almost shaking with anger. Washington knew how much the Frenchman’s pride had been damaged by the older General’s behavior and, after the passing of nearly one year since Lafayette had first arrived in America, he also knew that it would take days, if not weeks, to seal this wound. His friend was by far the youngest Major-General to serve in the army and thus Lafayette had developed a continuous ambition to prove himself worthy of his rank. He had been exhilarated by the prospect of commanding over two-thousand men and when he had been forced to hand over the men to Charles Lee, the disappointment had been many times stronger than it would have been, had he not been given a command at all.

Washington believed to see tears shimmer in Lafayette’s eyes when the young man averted his gaze. The Frenchman’s temperament and passion appeared to have gotten the better of him once again. Immediately, Washington’s heart grew weak and began to ache at this sight. No matter how great the suffering on the battlefield he had witnessed today had been, in this moment, Lafayette’s obvious distress was no less painful to Washington. He could not bear it.

“I know you are angered and I agree that Lee behaved in a dishonorable way”, he began. He was well aware that an extended conversation was the only thing able to appease his hot-tempered friend.   “He, in contrary to you and your men, did show nothing but cowardice today and there will be consequences for his conduct. That, however, does not change anything about your merits. You had no option but to obey the chain of command, even if that meant to vacate the rank of the commanding officer.”

He saw that Lafayette had already opened his mouth in protest, but he silenced him with a gesture of his hand.

“Please, Marquis, let me finish”, he said, and Lafayette closed his mouth again.

“I know very well that under your command there would not have been a retreat today, and the men know that as well. But do not try to tell me that you were not given any chance of showing bravery. Without you, Clinton’s advance could not have been stopped. I am aware that a second-line command is not what you desired but I needed a strong support in my back. You are young, and there will be plenty of opportunities to prove your abilities. Your time will come.”

He had spoken in a composed, firm voice that did not lack an affectionate overtone – a voice that had been almost perfected in the one year Washington had not only been a superior officer but rather a source of advice and guidance to Lafayette.

First, he anticipated yet another torrent of words, but then he gradually saw the tension leaving Lafayette’s body. The young man took a deep breath and leaned back slightly, with only a frown remaining on his forehead.

Washington was already sure that he had succeeded in calming his young friend, when Lafayette sat up straight again and resumed to pick at the grass, an activity he had taken on earlier.

“I still fail to understand why he - “, he started but Washington knew he had to put an end to the boy’s contemplations which seemed to have taken a circular path. If he would not be interrupted now, he would not calm down in the course of this night at all.

“It is alright, son. Rest, you must be exhausted. There will be plenty of time to discuss Lee, but it is not tonight”, he hushed Lafayette in a calm, even tone. He knew that it would take days for the Frenchman to come to terms with Lee’s behavior and the opportunity of a command he had missed because of the spineless general. Right now, however, it was more important that they both allowed themselves a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow their strength would be needed on the battlefield, should the fight continue.

The boy appeared angered for a quick second by Washington interrupting him. A frown appeared on his face and he opened his mouth to respond, but then he seemed to decide otherwise. He sighed and leaned back against the tree, his posture growing relaxed again. A comfortable silence began to stretch between them. The sounds of the army camping nearby were still audible but had calmed significantly during the last hour. The soldiers were utterly exhausted and beside the night guards very few men were likely to be awake at this late hour. 

In the meantime, the last traces of sunlight had vanished from the horizon and the moon bathed the hills in a dim, silvery glow. Innumerable stars had appeared on the night sky and their soft flickers had a strangely soothing effect on Washington. The scenery seemed too peaceful to belong into the middle of a war. For a moment, Washington was able to give in to the illusion that he was not in fact resting on a battlefield but somewhere on his plantations, at home, at Mount Vernon. He could almost convince himself that he was not wearing the uniform of the commander-in-chief of the Continental forces but normal clothes, the clothes of a farmer. Tomorrow he would rise to look after his tobacco fields and not after an army. He would give orders to his servants and not to several thousand soldiers. His days would be full of peace and tranquility, not reigned by blood, cannons and painful death.

A mixture of sentiments Washington was not able to fully comprehend began to rise inside of him. As long as he allowed himself to get lost inside his fantasy, he felt content, relaxed, even – he did barely dare to think of that word – happy. But as soon as he forced himself back into the bitter reality of war, he returned to his old, well-known state of uneasiness and sorrow and to the weight of command that  rested heavily on his shoulders. How foolish he was to think of Mount Vernon! He should have known that the longing to return home would grow stronger with every second he pictured himself there.

Washington was glad when his thoughts were prevented from growing even darker, when Lafayette shifted beside him and drew a deep breath. He looked over to the young man and saw that he had crossed his arms and appeared to be slightly uncomfortable.

“Are you cold?”, Washington asked. Although the day had been excruciatingly hot, the summer nights could become quite brisk, especially when the feverish energy of a battle started to fade. Lafayette, in his thin shirt, with the heat of the fight drained out of him and replaced with exhaustion, was shivering in the cool night air. Nevertheless, he shook his head and suppressed a yawn.

“No, it is fine.”

Ignoring his friend’s claim – it had been made out of pure stubbornness, Washington knew – the General took off his own blue coat and offered it to Lafayette in a silent gesture. The boy’s eyes darted a few times between Washington’s face and the coat in the General’s hands before he opened his mouth in protest.

“ _Mon général_ , I do not require-”

“Enough of this now”, Washington silenced him, but his voice sounded way too soft and affectionate to cause but a trace of intimidation in Lafayette. With a slightly shy, but nevertheless fond smile, he accepted the coat and draped it around his shoulders. He struggled for numerous seconds to find a comfortable position for it before he surrendered and put on the coat in the proper way.

“ _Merci_ ”, he mumbled and pulled the warm fabric tighter to his slender frame. Washington could not help but smile at this quite endearing sight. Although Lafayette stood nearly as tall as Washington did, the General’s coat still was too big for him. It overlapped a great amount in the front and owing to the broad shoulder area Lafayette could not quite fill out, the young man seemed to almost disappear in a mass of blue and gold. When Lafayette looked up, he noticed Washington’s expression. The General had ceased his efforts to hide his amusement and thus Washington could see a hint of confusion appearing on his friend’s face.

“Are you laughing at me?”, Lafayette asked. He tried to sound serious but the smile tucking at the corners of his mouth revealed that he had not taken any offense in Washington’s reaction.

Washington shook his head in response but the involuntary chuckle that accompanied that gesture undermined his credibility. His friend remained serious for another second but then a grin started to spread on his face. Still smiling, Lafayette leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms. For a moment, Washington studied his clean-cut profile, appearing dark in contrast to the moonlit grass of the hill they were resting upon. It was a mystery to him how this young man beside him  never failed to brighten his mood, to make him smile even after a day like this. Several hundred men had died today, the battle had ended in a draw that the Continental Army had paid a high price for, and one of Washington’s most trusted generals had shown a behavior that raised doubts regarding his loyalties. Still, here he was, resting not far from the battlefield on a cloak covered in dust, smiling against his better will. He knew that any positive mood was far from appropriate when not even two hours had passed since many men had met their death in battle not far from here. He knew that, and a part of him was ashamed. A commander, however, could only lead his men if he still was confident and of high spirit, he told himself.

Oh, how grateful Washington was for the men resting by his side for his inexplicable ability to prevent him from slipping into the state of darkness that frequently threatened to take over. At Valley Forge, where every day had been an endless wasteland of despair, agony and death, Washington had been closer to the brink of surrender than he had let anyone know. It had been Lafayette, with his youthful energy and zeal that not even the harshest cold had been able to subdue, who had brought back a glimmer of hope. When Conway and Gates had tried to take over the rank of commander-in-chief it had been Lafayette who had stood up for Washington. The Frenchman had defended him as if it had been his own honor at stake and not that of a general who had lost so many battles that he himself sometimes doubted that he was worthy of his rank. Lafayette had remained by his side during the darkest nights, distracting him, calming him, making him smile. The boy had proven everyone wrong who had doubted his intentions in the American war and at the end of the winterquarters Washington had gained a friend whose absolute and heart-felt loyalty would never waver.

Not for the first time, Washington asked himself what he had done to deserve a friend like Lafayette.

“My dear Marquis”, he said, so softly he doubted that Lafayette was able to properly understand his words, “What would I do without you?”  

Maybe the boy had heard him, maybe he had not. This issue, however, lost all importance when Lafayette moved closer and, after a quick glance at Washington, lowered his head onto the General's shoulder. Washington froze for a moment, surprised by this open display of affection. It was not like he had never been shown such gestures by Lafayette – touches, hugs and kisses on the cheek were nothing unusual after the year of knowing the emotive Frenchman.

Nevertheless, this was a level of intimacy the commander still had to get used to. But even Washington had to admit that the feeling of his young friend so close to him was not an unpleasant one. His movements were a bit unsure, hesitant even, when he raised one arm to carefully place it around Lafayette. His friend's reaction to this gesture confirmed that he had responded in an appropriate manner. The boy sighed quietly and leaned against him more heavily, his eyes already falling shut. Washington could not help but smile at this sight. The weight of his friend against him was strangely comforting, causing him to relax instinctively. Suddenly, he became aware of his own fatigue which he had been suppressing hitherto. He let his head sink back against the tree and closed his eyes. The few hours of sleep he got in this night, atop a hill at Monmouth Courthouse, hours after the battle and with Lafayette resting in his arms, proved to be the most peaceful ones since many months.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always very much appreciated! I hope to be back soon with another story...
> 
> Quote taken from "Adopted Son" by David A. Clary. 
> 
> Say hello on Tumblr: @bennyboy-tallmadge


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